


knights in armor hide under eyeliner

by TheGodWith5Yen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Best Friends, Bisexual Allison Argent, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, F/F, Falling In Love, Fast Food, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, High School, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Lydia Martin, Pining, Sexuality Crisis, Sharing a Bed, kinda there's just a dead body mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGodWith5Yen/pseuds/TheGodWith5Yen
Summary: Lydia can definitely understand why Scott McCall—silly, cute, loser-turned-hero Scott who had most definitely puked on her during their third grade field trip ride to the Monterey Bay Aquarium that caused all her photos from that trip to feature Lydia wearing an oversized blue t-shirt from the gift shop that Stiles’s mom had bought for her—had fallen head over heels for Allison the moment she showed up.The more Lydia spent with her it felt like she was falling for Allison.Which was, really, ridiculous. Like really.Totally.Completely.There was no way that Lydia could be falling for Allison. She’s always been attracted to men.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, Lydia Martin & Scott McCall, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	knights in armor hide under eyeliner

**Author's Note:**

> HI <3 I've been rewatching Teen Wolf and all these characters are in my mind I love them so much!!!! I'm really excited for this one I think it might be the longest wlw fic I've ever written :') I will def have to work on more this year! The title is from "Joan of Arc on the Dance Floor" by Aly & AJ because it gives me such Allison vibes. OH ALSO It's not really mentioned but Allison and Scott are both trans!
> 
> DONT INTERACT if you ship sterek or any other ships of the kids with adult characters
> 
> WARNING:  
> Mentions of food and a dead body with a brief description of how it looked (Nothing more graphic than the show)

Whenever Lydia looked at Allison, she couldn’t help but admire the other girl. She was so beautiful—effortlessly so in ways that had irritated Lydia when Allison had first moved to Beacon Hills, because Allison hadn’t worn much more makeup than a smudge of eyeshadow and lipgloss while Lydia painstakingly studied magazines and spent hours while studying perfecting certain looks only for Jackson to say “What? Oh yeah, yeah, you look beautiful as always” with a stupid smile on his face which was also frustrtaing because Lydia wanted to look  _ better  _ than always, but she digresses. 

From her hair—curled and perfect and so black that it shone underneath the ugly fluorescent lighting of BBHS in ways that Lydia couldn’t think of as anything other than  _ stunning _ —to her perfect form when it came to archery, Allison was beautiful and badass. What wasn’t to love about a girl like her? 

Lydia can definitely understand why Scott McCall—silly, cute, loser-turned-hero Scott who had most  _ definitely  _ puked on her during their third grade field trip ride to the Monterey Bay Aquarium that caused all her photos from that trip to feature Lydia wearing an oversized blue t-shirt from the gift shop that Stiles’s mom had bought for her—had fallen head over heels for Allison the moment she showed up. 

The more Lydia spent with her it felt like  _ she  _ was falling for Allison. 

Which was, really, ridiculous. Like really. 

Totally. 

Completely. 

There was no way that Lydia could be falling for Allison. She’s always been attracted to men. Well, they always had  _ something  _ about them that could be better, even Jackson, who Lydia would always love no matter what, had his flaws that Lydia felt like she could barely overlook. Men were just so—odd. Lydia didn’t even know what about them made her feel uncomfortable, but there was something about them that made her feel off. Sure, they could be nice to kiss and have a little fun with (and who didn’t love to steal a jacket from someone bigger than them?) but there was never much substance with men beyond that. 

Even Stiles, who objectively was cute and sweet and kind-hearted in ways that  _ should  _ make Lydia want to be with him, somehow didn’t feel right for Lydia. 

And why couldn’t Lydia just like Stiles? He was tall and funny and had those cute little moles on his face and a sweet smile and he would wrap his arm around Lydia’s shoulder in a completely normal, friendly way like he did with everyone else and he  _ loved her so much _ . So why couldn’t Lydia feel that way for him? She knew she loved him too. She loved to spend time with him and solve mysteries together and bond over their psychosis together, but she didn’t want to kiss him. 

Did she ever want to kiss Jackson? 

Deciding that  _ that  _ was a little too much to delve into, Lydia threw her blankets over her head and pressed her face into her pillow, willing her mind to kindly  _ shut the hell up thank you _ and finally fall asleep.

The daily morning routine was simple:

Wake up to the shrill alarm that Lydia kept on her bed stand, the little pink thing ringing out and instantly waking her up with its sheer force of annoyingness. 

Take a shower—wash her face with the Morning Burst facial cleanser and shave down her armpit hair until it was nice and smooth and scrub at her face with coconut scented shampoo that Allison had said she loved the smell of the other week when she had hugged Lydia close when Lydia had nearly been  _ clawed through _ by an omega ravaging through town (Lydia had already experienced that  _ once _ , which was very much her cut off point to being clawed and bit by werewolves). 

Then it was time to pull out the hair dryer and find the outfit of the day. Lydia _used_ to get her clothes ready the day before, but since her life had rapidly become much more hectic than she would have preferred it to be she had stopped doing that. Now she chose what to wear within the hour she had before she went to pick up breakfast for herself.   
After dressing she spent a few minutes studying her makeup and her binder full of magazine cut outs and instructions to see what she was feeling for the day before doing what felt right and paired nicely with the clothes she chose to wear. Red lipstick, eyeshadow that complimented the soft pink in her blouse, blush on her cheeks and a hint across her nose, mascara. One last look in the mirror and a few selfies later, Lydia was ready to leave the house.

Drive to the small locally owned drive-thru coffee stand that Lydia preferred over Starbucks (which Jackson actually liked better, but nobody ever claimed he had much taste past his car and Lydia). Her order—caramel macchiato for herself and a vanilla bean frappuccino for Allison—was quickly followed by her drive towards the school, calm and unrushed as she hummed along to the music on the radio. 

In the parking lot Lydia checked on her makeup and, once she deemed herself fit for the public eye, stepped out with the purse she used as her backpack hooked around her elbow and the two coffees in her hands. This was how she, for the most part, spent every morning. Unless there was someone immediately attempting to kill her and her friends or Lydia had accidently gotten distracted with a dead body, the daily morning routine never strayed far from the guidelines. 

Allison was leaning against a locker with her hands clasped around a binder—black with a sticker of a German Shepherd permanently stuck in the corner and pictures of the pack and her dad stuck inside the clear cover—and a bright, easing smile on her face as she spoke to Scott and Stiles. Her hair was up in a ponytail (cute, practical, not her usual style but Lydia loved a girl who could shake it up every once in a while) with small wisps falling out along her cheeks and her choppy bangs falling into her left eye causing her to flick it back with a toss of her head. Her outfit was cute too—tight skinny jeans, a deep blue sweatshirt that looked  _ great _ against her pale skin, a gold necklace proclaiming her name sitting right above her slightly exposed collarbone, heeled black boots that made her just a tad bit taller. Allison rolled her eyes and shoved at Scott’s shoulder as the boy laughed. 

Were they flirting? 

They could be flirting. 

Not that it mattered to Lydia. It would be great if Allison and Scott got back together. They were adorable together. Everyone thought so. 

“There you all are,” Lydia said with a smile as she handed Allison her vanilla frappuccino. Their fingers brushed slightly and Lydia swallowed, her chin jutting forward as she turned to look at Scott. “If all goes according to plan—”

“Meaning no werewolves or darachs or any other supernatural creature pops out to murder us all,” Stiles helpfully added with a grin as he rocked back on his heels, his hands tightening around the straps of his backpack. His grin only widened when Lydia rolled her eyes and took a pointed sip of her drink. 

“ _ If all goes according to plan _ ,” Lydia began again as she handed the rest of her drink to Stiles, who laughed mishcievously as he took off the lid to begin to chug the rest of the caramel macchiato, “Scott and I are going to spend the afternoon in the library  _ studying _ . Meaning no interruptions of any kind unless we are all in mortal danger. The AP Bio test is coming up and I will  _ not _ let anything keep me from passing it.”

Scott perked up and grinned, bright and wide as he nodded in agreement. “I’ve actually been making study cards for myself and using the strategies you taught me so I’m feeling pretty good about everything. Though, I would  _ love _ to spend a few hours going over the chapters and study guide with you without getting interrupted by,” he lowered his voice slightly and Lydia couldn’t help but grin at him because she couldn’t remember the last time they actually spoke in hushed whispers about their extremely odd lifestyle, “ _ supernatural  _ stuff.”

“So glad I’m not taking AP Bio.” Stiles said as he turned to a nearby trashcan and threw the empty coffee cup into it. It fell into it with a thump and he raised up a hand for Scott to high-five. “I was  _ thinking  _ about doing it, you know for something fun, but I am  _ not  _ a science person and I am  _ not  _ spending my senior year doing anything science or math related.” 

Allison hummed in agreement, “Yeah no way I could do that either. Glad I was able to get away with taking a drama class. Which is actually pretty fun! Sometimes we don’t even do anything, we just nap or Mister Garcia puts on a film and we just kind of chill and talk about the acting choices.”

“Man, I wish I had drama.” Stiles groaned out. 

Lydia laughed, “Instead you’re stuck with the two hour criminal justice class.”

“Two hours?” Allison hooked her arm with Lydia’s as they started to walk about, aimless as they waited for the morning bell to ring. “I’ve seen you in a regular one hour class, how do you get through  _ two _ ?” 

“Painfully.” Stiles answered with a small groan as he wrapped his arm around Scott’s shoulders, dropping his head onto his friend's shoulder as Scott shook with silent laughter. Lydia shared a look with Allison as she felt her own laughter bubbling in her chest. “I mean, some of it is great, real informational, cool, but it is  _ so long _ and it’s not like I’m actually doing what I want to do.”

“Pretty sure that’s just school Stiles.” Scott said as Allison nodded her head in agreement. Stiles gave Scott a long look of annoyance and a pout, but before he could launch into what would obviously be a long-winded one-sided conversation about how the school system should cater more towards the students interests and fuel their curiosity (a conversation brought up again and again by Stiles that Lydia undoubtedly agreed with; there may be a powerpoint presentation that the two of them have been working on in their down time) Scott asked, “Is the AP Psych class any better?”

Stiles perked up. “Oh yeah, there’s a lot of kind of low level stuff being discussed, about synapses and classical conditioning and  _ Freud  _ of all people—I mean,  _ c’mon _ , right?—but the teacher is  _ super  _ chill so we spend a lot of time just talking about whatever we want while doing easy assignments. I am  _ very much _ pumped for the end of the year final, you know the one where we do a presentation about a serial killer. I’m not sure  _ who _ I am going to choose yet, but I’ve been listing some of the more interesting cases so by May I’ll be ready to figure out which serial killer I’d want to talk about.” They listened as Stiles began to list his current top three cases—Scott in interest and mild disgust, Allison in morbid curiosity that matched Stiles’s, and Lydia in sheer disgust at the details.

Seeing as Lydia had laid eyes on more corpses than anyone her age should ever encounter (or just  _ anyone _ really), she wasn’t too keen on the mental images Stiles was painting in her head. Some people were just downright  _ sick _ .

As they walked, Lydia found herself turning to watch Allison—at the small facial expressions that passed over her face as Stiles spoke, at her large smile that lit up Lydia’s chest, she even found herself glancing down at their joined arms and admiring Allison’s slim hands. Allison’s hands were larger than Lydia’s and she couldn’t help but find them intriguing. They were strong and powerful; they were exactly like she was and Lydia adored Allison in every way possible. 

Allison smiled at Lydia, catching her staring up at her, and Lydia smiled right back before turning away. 

Studying was always fun for Lydia. She used to pretend otherwise, groan and complain with her peers because  _ that’s _ what they did, even though she loved the complex math equations given to them for homework and read through the science textbooks as she made neat Cornell Notes with different colored glittered gel pens and highlighters while she blasted her Ashley Tisdale CD on the little radio her parents had given her (and promptly regretted) as a Christmas present. Even now in her senior year of high school she was excited to study, taking out her notebook with clearly written notes and the three-paged AP Bio study guide as she and Scott went over what was to be expected for the next test. 

Scott excitedly showed Lydia his notecards, which she quickly shuffled around before asking him the questions and terms he had written on them. His penmanship wasn’t as nice as Lydia’s own, and he was only beginning to grasp the use of different colors to help him through connecting concepts, but the cards were pretty good and Scott was answering the questions well. 

“Well, look who  _ has _ been studying.” Lydia grinned as she carefully lined up the cards and placed them in front of Scott, who pulled out a colored rubber-band to wrap around them. “You’ll do great Scott.”

His lips twitched and he gave a small huff of breath. 

“What?” Lydia questioned as she brushed her hair back behind her ear. 

He shook his head, “Oh, um, nothing. It’s stupid. Whenever anyone says that, Stiles tries to do the Doc Brown voice. You know, from  _ Back to the Future _ .” Lydia rolled her eyes and Scott nodded his head. “Yeah, it’s totally bad. Hey, um, since we're all done, want to go get something to eat together? I know we don’t hang out much. Together. Alone. But it would be fun to hang out, just us two. What do you say?” 

The invitation was interesting. Sure, they hung out together, but always in a group—in double dates with Jackson and Allison, with the pack all around as they were running around trying to stop murders, with Allison or Stiles or Kira or Malia as buffers between them. Besides this study session, Lydia was pretty sure the last time she had been alone with Scott was during their sophomore year when she cornered him in an office and made out with him in a poorly thought out plan to make Jackson jealous. Lydia hummed as she looked into Scott’s big brown eyes and said, “Alright.” 

Since Stiles had apparently driven him to school (with Scott’s transportation back home being his ability to trek a few miles) they climbed into Lydia’s car, making suggestions back and forth on what food to grab before deciding on Chinese. 

“So what has been happening in the life of Scott McCall lately?” Lydia asked as she made the turn out of the parking lot. “ _ Besides _ the occasional homicidal supernatural creature.” 

Scott chuckled. His backpack was on his lap and he wrapped his arms around it as he titled his head to the side, obviously thinking of an answer. “It’s been pretty good actually. I’ve started reading a lot more books that  _ aren’t  _ assigned readings. Actually Derek of all people gave me the book I’m reading right now. Apparently it’s one of his favorites.  _ The Golden Compass _ . You know, that movie with that badass polar bear and the dæmons—the little animals that are like the characters' souls?” 

Lydia grinned. “Oh my god, I loved that movie when I was a kid. I watched it in theaters  _ four _ times. I wanted a dæmon of my own, like the cute little monkey Nicole Kidman’s character had. I mean, she was clearly out of her mind, but the monkey was  _ adorable _ .” 

Scott sputtered, “The monkey that  _ attacked  _ Lyra’s dæmon? You think that thing is adorable?” 

She glanced over at her friend and shrugged nonchalantly back at him, “Come on, like you don’t find monkey’s to be cute. Even weird little CGI ones. Wouldn’t you want to have one as a pet?” Lydia didn’t remember it, but apparently after a trip to the zoo with her parents when she was five she had gotten a plush monkey doll from the gift shop and took it just about anywhere until her parents forced her to stop when she started kindergarten. 

“Like a  _ Rise of the Planet of the Apes _ , Caesar sort of situation?” Scott asked with a laugh as Lydia snorted, opting to pretend not to know the reference even though Stiles had recently rented the movie for them all to watch at his house. The conversation continued to flow as Lydia drove towards the restaurant. Once there, they climbed out of the car and got four containers of orange chicken (with white rice for Lydia and Isaac, chow mein for Scott, and fried rice for Mrs. McCall) that they took into the car. Scott kept the four containers on his lap, his backpack stuffed at his feet, as Lydia drove towards his house. “Isaac might not even be home. He got a part time job at a pizza place. Never thought it was possible for anyone to hate pizza, but after a few weeks of him working there, if we so much as mention it he gives us dirty looks.” 

“Sabrina Langston works at Little Caesars and I’ve heard the horror stories.” Lydia wrinkled her nose as she parked her car in front of the McCall house. The driveway was empty and immediately Scott carefully moved to grab his house keys from his pocket. Lydia took two containers from him as she stepped outside the car and moved to wait on near the door as Scott grabbed everything he needed. “Is Stiles with Malia?”

Scott fumbled with the keys as he moved to stick them into the door. He turned back to Lydia and blinked. “Huh?”

“Is Stiles hanging out with Malia? His girlfriend. You know, the pretty werecoyote with a penchant for chasing rabbits down.” Lydia couldn’t think of any other reason Scott would willingly spend time with her outside of studying and supernatural know-how.

Scott held open the door and Lydia stepped inside, immediately moving towards the kitchen. It had been a while since she had been inside Scott house—it was quite possible that the last time she had been in Scott’s house was when they had been trying to figure out if  _ she  _ was the kanima—and there were added photos along the wall that Lydia looked at curiously after setting the food down on the table. There were pictures of Scott as a baby—wearing a long white baptism gown as a young Melissa McCall held him in her arms and his father had his arms wrapped around Melissa's waist, another as a toddler in overalls with little flower-shaped plastic buttons as the clasps and his hair a curly mess around his head—as well as pictures of Scott and Stiles throughout the years, and now pictures including Isaac in their small family. 

Lydia was pulled away from the photos when Scott called out, “Um, Stiles and Malia broke up actually. It was only a few days ago and they seem to be on pretty good terms.”

Lydia blinked in surprise. It wasn’t like Stiles and Malia were a cuddly, gross PDA couple that made anyone near them feel like they were going to strangle on the scent of their pheromones, but she knew that Stiles cared about Malia a lot. She  _ was _ his first girlfriend. “Oh.” Was all Lydia said as she moved to the table, grabbing her food. 

“You’re not, like, I mean.” Scott looked down at his container, worrying at the styrofoam as he moved his mouth open and closed as he tried to find the words he wanted to say. Lydia patiently waited, nibbling on a piece of chicken as she did. “Do you like Stiles?”

“Romantically?” Lydia hummed as she tilted her head to the side, watching as Scott cracked the container in his hands. “No. Do you?” Scott choked on air as he moved his shook his head, blushing all the while, but Lydia dropped the conversation with that. Instead she fished for a different topic—Scott happily moving away from it—glad to know that Scott wasn’t in fact into Allison at the moment.

Not that she was— _ into _ Allison.

It was just better for Allison, not to get with Scott again. Not like Scott was bad for her. Because he wasn’t. He was great. He was honestly a great guy, and a pretty good boyfriend from what both Allison and Kira had said. Still. Allison had better things to focus on—herself and her schoolwork and the fact that she was taking up photography again. Plus if  _ she  _ got a boyfriend while Lydia didn’t have one, they wouldn’t get to spend as much time together. 

What would Lydia even  _ do _ with herself if she couldn’t have sleepovers and shopping sprees with her best friend?

Lydia forced herself to get away from thoughts of Allison and instead paid full attention to her plate of food and her conversation with Scott. It was nice to spend time with him outside of harrowing near-death experiences, and she genuinely liked talking to him as much as she enjoyed talking to Stiles. So they ate and they talked and they smiled.

And Lydia suddenly realized—for the first time in years she had  _ friends _ . 

It was nice. 

Sleep didn’t quite find Lydia seeing as she instead found  _ herself  _ in the middle of an empty parkinglot, screaming her head off, but oh well. It wasn’t long after that her phone began to ping with texts from Scott. And Isaac.  _ And _ Derek. Next was Stiles and Allison, who would have heard from Scott, and it wasn’t long before Scott, Derek, and Allison showed up with the Sheriff not too far behind. 

It was going to be a long night. 

Allison slipped into the passenger of Lydia’s car, immediately pressing her chilled hands against the small vents for any heat as Lydia waited for her car to warm up. They watched as the flashing lights of the police cars—so familiar now in the presence they had in both their lives—fell over them both and the emergency workers evaluated the scene. As far as Derek and Scott could tell, the dead man that Lydia had found had defintly been murdered by a local werewolf. They had said something about speaking to Satomi Ito as well as the few other small packs in Beacon County and that Lydia should head home. 

“Did your dad drop you off?” Lydia asked quietly as she shifted the gear into drive and took off. 

“Yeah, um,” Allison sniffed slightly as she shivered, “sorry it’s pretty cold tonight and I  _ didn’t _ bring a larger jacket like my dad told me I should. Anyways, yeah he dropped me off.” There was a brief moment of silence as Lydia nodded her head. “ Want to sleepover at my place? It must not be fun, going to sleep alone after finding bodies.” 

It  _ sucked _ to go to bed after seeing a mutilated corpse. Lydia had several nightmares of bodies she had seen and this was going to add into the rapidly growing list. 

She smiled as she kept her eyes on the road. “I’m never alone. I always have Prada.” Allison huffed out a small laugh and Lydia breathed in. “But, I’d rather be alone with you.”

“Great.” 

They sat in comfortable, warm silence as Lydia drove towards Allison’s apartment building. After a few minutes, Allison rested her head against Lydia’s shoulder, the angle a little awkward seeing as she had to stoop over the center counsel, but pleasent nonetheless. When they reached a traffic light, Lydia carefully lifted a hand to briefly press against Allison’s head, holding her close as the absurdness of their lives danced around Lydia’s mind. At least she had Allison—sweet, funny, soft, strong Allison—in the middle of it all.

After Lydia parked her car and dug underneath her seat to find a sweater—a large blue hoodie that Lydia recognized as Stiles’s, because of course that ended up under her seat—to give to Allison, they walked together arm-in-arm. Lydia cuddled close to Allison as the autum chill bit at her nose, pressing her cold cheek against her friends shoulder as they quickly moved towards the building. They stood close together as they stepped into the elevator, alone in the late of night. 

“Lydia?”

“Allison.”

A breath. 

Lydia’s chest felt tight as she waited for Allison to continue, as she stared forward at the doors with their distorted figures and wondered what could leave her best friend's lips. She closed her eyes and let herself rest her head against Allison’s arm. 

“Want to eat some ice cream before bed?” Her voice sounded raw, a little wet, and Lydia could only nod in response. “Cool.”

The doors opened and they stepped out onto Allison’s floor. Lydia let go of her friend to let her fish her keys out of her jeans pocket, the warmth of the building seeping into Lydia’s skin as she stood to the side waiting. “Come on. We got chocolate fudge swirl.” 

“Nothing like chocolate fudge swirl after finding a dead body.” Lydia wrapped her arms around her waist as she stepped into the Argent’s apartment, following Allison towards the kitchen. Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing a pair of reading glasses with a book in his hands, looking up as they walked in. “Hi Mr. Argent.” Lydia gave a small wave as she moved to sit at the table. 

“Hi Lydia.” Mr. Argent gave her a smile as he picked up the mug in front of him—proclaiming ‘ _ don’t talk to me until I’ve eaten this mug _ ’ which made Lydia snort as she read it. After he took a drink, he asked, “So was it anything to worry about on our end?”

Allison, who had already taken out a large tub of ice cream and placed two large blue mugs next to the tub as the ice cream thawed out, shrugged her shoulders. “Not sure yet. Scott and Derek think it might be a local beta that had a grudge against the poor guy, which I’m inclined to agree on. The claw marks on the body were personal, like—” Lydia shivered at the sudden mental image of the body she had found, the familiar sight of claw marks that had been deliberately drawn against his cheeks and around his wrists. Allison paused and shook her head as she focused her attention on scooping out the ice cream into the bowls, “But, uh, yeah. Can’t be too sure yet. They’ll find out tomorrow if this is a bigger worry for the pack.” 

Mr. Argent hummed as he closed his book and folded up his glasses. “Well, I’ll leave you girls to it. Good night Lydia.” 

Lydia smiled as she met his kind eyes, “Good night Mr. Argent.” The man left after giving Allison a kiss on top of her head. “I don’t know if I’ve said it before, but your dad is  _ great _ .” Lydia gratefully took the bowl of ice cream from Allison. Her own father was  _ alright _ . Lydia loved him of course, but he always saw the worst in her; he had once accused her of  _ cheating _ on the IQ test she had taken in her sophomore year, as though that was something anyone could do.

“Yeah, he kind of is.” Allison shifted slightly in her seat, the long sleeves of Stiles’s sweater falling over her hands as she grabbed her spoon and began to eat her ice cream. As they ate, Lydia couldn’t help but sneak small peaks at Allison. Her skin looked extremely pale with the combination of her dark hair, the deep blue sweater, and the smudged red lipstick on her lips. There were deep, dark eyebags underneath her eyes that spoke to how tired she was, and once they finished their bowls, Lydia grabbed her sleeve, declared they needed to sleep immediately, and dragged her towards her bedroom. 

Once in Allison’s bedroom, Lydia moved towards the vanity to wipe off the makeup from her face as Allison changed into a pair of ruffled pink shorts and a long red Beacon Hills High t-shirt with a cutesy version of a cyclone with eyes and arms that Lydia found to be an abomination of all art. Lydia turned to Allison, “Come here, let me get your eyes.” 

Her friend’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Alright. Thanks.” Allison sat on her bed and closed her eyes, tilting her head up, looking bare and content and trusting as she waited for Lydia to remove her makeup. Lydia breathed in as she stepped forward between Allison’s legs, her hand moving up to gently wipe away the dark eyeshadow her friend wore. Once it was gone, Lydia reached towards the nightstand, grabbed a tissue, and lightly wiped at the smudged lipstick around Allison’s lips. 

A small noise escaped Allison’s lips as Lydia’s fingers lightly rubbed at her lips. 

“Better a tissue than your bed.” 

Allison’s nose scrunched up and Lydia would have found it adorable if she didn’t say, “Ew.”

Lydia gasped quietly. Honestly, the audacity of her. Before Allison, the only person she remotely heard any kind of dirty joke from was the occasional quip from Jackson (or the frankly  _ disgusting _ ones from Greenberg made during the obligatory health ed classes that hadn’t really taught them much more than  _ don’t do drugs _ and  _ don’t have premarital sex but if you do use a condom _ which wasn’t exactly teaching anyone anything). “Allison Marie Argent, get your pretty head out of the gutters. Seriously. I cannot believe you.” Lydia pulled her hand away, attempting to ignore Allison as she giggled through her apology. She sighed, overdramatic and resigned, and threw the tissue into the small trashbin next to Allison’s vanity. “Fine, fine. I  _ forgive  _ you.” 

With that out of the way, Lydia got ready to climb into bed. She changed into one of Allison’s long band t-shirts and climbed into the bed next to her friend. Her legs were cold, but she moved closer to Allison, whose smile was bright even in the dark of the room, pressing her head against her chest as her legs moved to tangle up with Allison’s. Allison held her as sleep finally— _ finally _ —found its way to Lydia. 

She was warm.

And, Lydia knew as she began to drift off, she was undoubtedly in love with her best friend. 

How does any person come to terms with finding out they’re most definitely in love with their beautiful best friend while in their arms? As Lydia woke up, she felt like she was about to burst out of her skin. She was so warm—from body heat and hopeless more-than-quite-possibly-unrequited love. Lydia closed her eyes as she breathed in Allison—a soft sweet sweat smell and an undertone of the vanilla perfume she always wore. 

Lydia knew she would have to move soon, that they had to get to school, but she lay still in Allison’s arms for a few moments longer, in love and silly in the sudden realization of it even if the prospect of loving Allison—her best friend, her first true friend since middle school or maybe ever depending on if middle school friendships even  _ counted _ , a  _ girl _ which Lydia didn’t quite know what to do with that now becaus as she accepted she loved Allison deeper than friendship she wondered if this was something entirely new or not for herself—scared the shit out of her. How could her feelings turn to this? When did it shift away from respect for the new girl who stood her ground, to admiration for the girl who looked the supernatural in the eye and shot back blow-to-blow, to a deep rooted love that encased Lydia’s heart? 

After a while, Lydia took a deep breath, and moved out of Allison’s arms. 

The daily routine was skewed seeing as she was not in her own house, but Lydia knew how to deal with these types of situations. The daily routine was like a high speed chase: 

Wake up in the arms of Allison, who Lydia apparently loved and wanted to kiss  _ so _ bad it made her bones shake. The sheer panic and exhilaration of knowing she was entirely enthralled with Allison Argent had her wide awake within seconds. 

Take an anxiety-inducing shower as quickly as she could in a shower she barely recognized with knobs she couldn’t quite figure out. The water was on the edge of too cold, but it was fine if it meant it only hurried Lydia up to get the hell out and change into the clothes she had picked up at random so she wasn’t wandering back to Allison’s room in nothing but a towel and risk Allison seeing her naked or, god-forbid, Mr. Argent seeing her as she passed through the hallway. Lydia had already done the whole naked in public thing, and that was defintly on her list of top five worst experiences she had since getting involved in the supernatural world.

Then change into the clothes that she had taken from Allison’s room—a ruffly, flower-patterned shirt that was actually Lydia’s so thank god, and a denim skirt that was a little loose, but wouldn’t fall down if she wore it high-wasited over her hips (again, thank god for the small mercies in life). 

After dressing, Lydia made her way back to Allison’s room. Allison was off to shower after her, giving her a bright smile as she moved past Lydia, their shoulders brushing as she did. With a breath to center herself, Lydia moved to the vanity to quickly run the hair dryer through her wet hair. Once done, Lydia decided to make do with the makeup Allison had seeing as she had left her bag in her car and wasn’t about to rush outside to grab it. A little eyeshadow, blush, and lipgloss. Lydia pursed her lips at herself. Good enough, even if her freckles were a little  _ too _ noticeable for her taste. 

Eat breakfast with Mr. Argent as they made polite conversation and waited for Allison to finish  _ her  _ routine. Mr. Argent was kind enough to make french toast with scrambled eggs that Lydia thankfully ate in small bites as she helped him work through the daily crossword between their conversation about how Lydia was doing in school. 

Then it was time to drive to school with Allison in the seat next to her as they listened to music and giggled over misheard lyrics. They stepped out together, Lydia’s heart slowing down from the worry she felt throughout the morning. No matter her feelings, this was Allison, and that made the love she felt all the better and sweeter and kinder. They walked side-by-side, talking about school and movies. It was a stray from her usual morning routine, but Lydia was happy to have the experience anyways. 

As Lydia moved throughout the day from class to class, she half paid attention to what was being taught, taking notes and answering questions even as her mind wandered off. 

Her first kiss had been when she was thirteen, with a boy named Cedric Saxton. He had been a friend of Jackson’s before Cedric’s family had moved out of Beacon Hills. Lydia had thrown her very first party of her teenage years, inviting nearly every popular person at her middle school. She distinctly remembers shutting the door in Stiles and Scott faces, who had shown up at her front door with nervous grins, their bikes on the front lawn and a container of frosted sugar cookies in Stiles hands. Lydia had been told so much during eighth grade that Jackson had the biggest crush on her and that Lydia _ had  _ to play spin the bottle so that she could finally kiss him. 

So she did. 

Except instead of landing on Jackson like she wanted, it landed on Cedric, who was sitting right next to Jackson. Needless to say the kiss was bad because they were thirteen and stupid. It was nothing special and nothing fun. And Cedric got spit in her mouth. Honestly, Lydia had kind of hated him for that bad kiss. 

She wondered, again, if she ever liked Jackson. She loved him, loved how soft he could be when he opened up and loved how he would hold her and loved that he got  _ really  _ into  _ The Notebook _ no matter how much he complained about renting the movie every month, Lydia knew she did. But that love was for the person he was. Same with how Lydia grew to love both Stiles and Scott with their quirks and faults and endless fountain of care. The only reason Lydia had gotten with Jackson was because everyone said it made sense. They were both beautiful and popular. 

All of the other guys she had been with had been fun, but she never felt like she cared about them or wanted anything else with them.

Lydia thought about girls she knew throughout the years that, in retrospect, may have been crushes. Sydney Tennet, a black girl who had always wore glittery beads and butterfly clips in her hair during middle school, had held her hand during their end of the year eighth grade field trip to the water park. Sydney had bought her Dippin’ Dots and complimented Lydia on the pretty, ruffled two-piece swimsuit she had been wearing that had made her blush because Sydney had been one of the coolest and prettiest girls their grade before she had transferred to Devenford Prep and Lydia saw her less and less except for the occasional party. 

There was the girl in elementary school who had hugged her after she had burst into tears in the middle of the recess line who she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about at the time. The girl with deep red dyed hair like Hayley Williams in her freshman year she had hung out with for a month and had wanted to do everything with until Lydia had caught her trying to kiss Jackson. And now, more deep and real than all the others, Allison.

Lydia thought and remembered and realized, as her class before lunch ended with a loud ring that startled her, that she had always been attracted to girls. She was attracted to girls. And maybe only to girls. 

She was a— 

There was only one person Lydia wanted to talk this all out with now that she realized what was going on with her. Lydia took out her phone from the pocket of the skirt she was wearing and texted Stiles, receiving a quick ‘ _ K meet me @ my Jeep _ ’ back not even a minute later from him. They only have about forty minutes of lunchtime, but that should be enough time to get into the deep of it and eat lunch. 

Lydia made her way to the parking lot, where she spotted Stiles leaning against his Jeep while munching on what looked like one of those  _ horribly _ non-nutritious cosmic brownie bars with the neon pink and blue sprinkles that spoke wonders of the kind of artificial chemicals used to make those things. When Stiles spotted her, he raised a hand and moved to open up the passenger door for her. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem!” Stiles shut the door after Lydia stepped inside of the Jeep and jogged over towards the other side and quickly jumped in. “Want to get some fast food? Mickey D’s or something? Or, hey, what about Rally’s, they got those killer fries, right?”

Lydia huffed out a small laugh. “My dietary needs are definitely going down the drain hanging with you and Scott. Sure, let’s get some Rally’s.” 

Stiles laughed as he backed up the Jeep and began driving towards the Rally’s, only a few minutes away. Luckily, it wasn’t a particular hotspot for others during this time so Lydia wasn’t too worried about their being too long of a line when they got there. After a minute or so, Stiles made a popping sound with his mouth, “ _ So.  _ What’s up Lydia? Is this about the body, because from what Derek’s been live texting Scott all day it looks like it’s not anything to worry too hard about. Promise.” He reached his right hand over and squeezed her shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile. 

She smiled back at Stiles. “It’s not that. It’s.” Lydia paused to breathe in. “I.” She shook her head and covered her face in annoyance with herself. She  _ knew  _ what she was, knew that Stiles would accept her, that there was nothing and no one who could hurt her, yet the words became lodged in her throat and she couldn’t shake them out no matter how she opened her mouth. 

“Hey, hey it’s alright Lydia. Here, let’s order some food, find somewhere to park, and just talk. Okay? Take your time. Whatever it is, you’ll be okay.” Stiles squeezed her shoulder again and moved the Jeep into the drive-thru. 

Lydia breathed out a small thanks. It was hard now, but she knew that since it was Stiles—sweet and considerate Stiles—that she could say what she set out to say. 

A few minutes later, the Jeep was filled with the delicious smell of fast food—a large Big Buford for Stiles along with two large fries for the both of them and mozzarella sticks, Lydia’s chicken sandwich, and a large blue slushie that they agreed to share. Stiles parked in front of a grocery store as Lydia carefully unwrapped her sandwich and took a small bite. After a few more bites, Lydia brought her eyes up and stared through the window, watching as a pigeon walked along the sidewalk as she gathered up her words. It was still difficult, but she was a goddamn Banshee that could predict death. If she could find a scream, she could find these words. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About who I am.” She closed her eyes. “I think I’m—I  _ know _ that—” Still. Still she couldn’t say it. _ I’m a lesbian _ .  _ I’m a lesbian, I’m a lesbian. I love women. _ She swallowed and finally got out, small and choked, “I love Allison.”

The sudden presence of a hand on hers was reassuring and Lydia let the tears gathering in her eyes fall as Stiles pulled her into a hug. He kissed the side of her head and whispered into her ear, “Hey, I’m so proud of you Lydia. I am. I know this is hard. I. Fuck. It’s taken so much of me to just acknowledge that I’m bisexual and I know basically most of our friends are bi and are openly out and proud, but accepting it for myself has been hell so I know. I know this can be hard and confusing, but I’m here for you Lydia. Always.” Lydia let out a wet breath and relished in Stiles’s comfort. 

“I just. I always thought I could like men. That I  _ did _ . But, suddenly, or not really, I looked at Allison and she’s all I want! Everything I’ve been chasing for years has been to shove down these feelings, but they aren’t  _ bad. _ They aren’t. Because loving Allison could never be bad. Loving girls isn’t.” Lydia pressed her face into Stiles’s shoulder and let herself cry a little longer as he held her, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Stiles was so warm, it made Lydia’s chest ache that she couldn’t bring herself to love him the way he had for so many years. 

“You’re not, Lydia. None of us are. This is always who we were.”

It was. 

Even if she hadn’t quite known until now, this was always who she had been. 

Lydia pulled away from Stiles and wiped at her face. Her friend's eyes were red-rimmed with a few tears on his cheeks that he wiped away with the sleeve of his flannel. “I don’t even know  _ why _ I can’t say  _ it _ . It’s like the word doesn’t want to make it past my chest no matter how hard I try.” 

“It takes baby steps.” Stiles rubbed his hand over his eye. “Fuck. That was the first time I said out loud that I’m bisexual. Look! Did you hear that? I said it again! I’m bisexual! I’m bi.” He laughed lightly and shook his head. Lydia smiled at Stiles, so happy that he could say his identity out loud with such pride and joy. “Are you going to tell Allison?”

Lydia picked up a fry and chewed thoughtfully. “That I’m interested in women or that I’m in love with her?” Stiles raised his eyebrows and gestured about, which probably meant both. Lydia sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t want to make anything different between us.”

Stiles tilted his head back and forth. “I get that. Telling your best friend that you’re into them and having the very real possibility that they  _ aren’t _ given back to you isn’t ideal. But, okay,” he raised up his hands in the universal wait sign as he spoke on, “even if Allison doesn’t like you that way, I don’t think she’ll hold it against you Lydia. Allison’s a nice girl. Look at her and Scott! They broke up ages ago and are still great friends! So are her and Isaac! I mean, sure it’s a little different, but the sentiment is the same.” He nodded his head and grinned in satisfaction with his little speech. 

“Okay, project much? Perhaps  _ you _ should tell Scott about your feelings too then.” Lydia shot back. 

She felt a bit bad when Stiles squawked and made negative noises at Lydia’s accusation, but he eventually calmed down and hid his face in his hands. “Please tell me it isn’t obvious. I’ll literally die if it’s obvious. Oh my god it’s obvious isn’t it?”

“It’s not obvious.” Lydia assured him, because she probably wouldn’t have put it together if not for his speech. As much as Stiles wore his heart on his sleeve most times, it seemed that he hid his feelings for Scott well enough. “Scott told me you and Malia broke up. Is…. _ that  _ why?”

“Um, actually  _ nooo _ . We broke up because Malia told me about feelings she was having and I  _ realized  _ that my girlfriend was actually not into me the way she  _ should _ be and was instead in love with Kira. So, I told Malia I thought she might be a lesbian and she agreed. So. Yup.” He popped the ‘p’ and twisted apart a mozzarella stick as he made what Lydia could only classify as a self-deprecating face over the situation. “What does it say about me that the two girls I’ve been in love with are lesbians?”

“Oof.” Lydia made a face at the statement before setting her sandwich back down and taking a sip from their slushie. “Maybe you should stick to men?” Stiles snorted and shrugged a single shoulder as he stuffed the mozzarella stick into his mouth. “I’m sorry about your breakup. Even if you two ended it as friends, it still must be hard.”

It took Stiles a minute to respond as he finished chewing the food in his mouth. “Yeah, it kind of sucks. But I don’t,” he raised his hands, curled up all the fingers except his index finger and thumb, and ended up making a fist as he bit his lip and shook his head. “I don’t want to be that bitter ex-boyfriend, being all angry and upset that Malia’s a lesbian. Because I am  _ not _ . She deserves to be happy, god that’s  _ all _ I ever want her to be! I love her no matter what.”

Lydia placed a hand onto his shoulder and rubbed back and forth down his arm. “Hey, it’s alright to be upset you had a breakup, Stiles. You were with her for months, you  _ loved  _ her so much that you helped her figure out her identity when she might not have even figured it out for herself. That’s how much you care about her Stiles.” Her voice grew wet again as she spoke on and Stiles turned away towards his window as tears began to fall down his face. “It's okay to be sad. It’s okay to miss what you two had.”

He nodded his head. 

They cried for a little longer as they ate before Stiles, with a sniff and a wipe of his face, declared they should get back to school if they wanted to have any chance of good grades for the semester. 

“Got to get top notch grades if I want to be valedictorian.” Stiles laughed as he reversed out of the parking lot. 

Lydia, who had begun to wrap up her sandwich to save for later, gaped at him. She gave a small, unamused laugh. “Um? You? Valedictorian? Honey, no. Everyone knows that’s going to be me. You’ll be lucky to get salutatorian.” 

Stiles laughed, a rebuttal already on his lips as he raised up a finger to start his first point. And Lydia smiled, so happy and at peace with herself in this moment. Everything that had happened in their lives had led to this moment—this heartbreaking, happy, wonderful conversation—and Lydia was overwhelmed with the love she had for her friend. She fed him fries as he drove and spoke, and he brought her spirits all the more up the closer they got to school. 

They laughed together, light and unburdened for the first time in so long. 

A small knock at Lydia’s door surprised her as she was putting her notebooks full of homework back into her bag. Lydia blinked and glanced out the window of her room—the sun was nearly ready to set, hanging low in the sky with deep, rich purples beginning to envelop the sun. “Come in!” She called out as she placed her bag onto her desk. It caused a few of her highlighters to roll off the table and Lydia sighed in irritation as she kneeled down to grab them. “Is this about—Allison. I wasn’t expecting you.” Lydia smiled as she placed her highlighters back onto her desk and moved to sit on the edge of her bed. 

Allison smiled as she gave a nonchalant shrug. “Well, I thought I would come to see you since I missed you during lunch.” She sat next to Lydia and grabbed the large red bear with white heart-haped ears that lay in the middle of the bed. It had been a gift from Stiles as a very late Valentine’s day gift (he had given everyone in the pack a gift: earrings to Erica, chocolates to Isaac, packs of sticky notes with little heart patterns on them for Scott and various other gifts for everyone that Lydia couldn’t remember at the moment, though knew had been equally as sweet) that Lydia loved to hold as she slept. Allison hugged the bear and set her chin on top of its head. “Had a  _ hot date _ ?” Her smile was teasing. 

Lydia scoffed. “Like I could. The only boys in Beacon Hills that are a pleasure to be around are our packmates, and I am not too keen on the idea of dating any of them.”

Allison leaned forward to nudge her shoulder. “Come on Lydia. What about...Isaac?” She raised a single eyebrow and grinned widely. Her white teeth shone as bright as the moon. Lydia’s fingers twitched on her lap. 

“Isaac? Isaac Lahey? Your ex-boyfriend?” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Nope. I mean, I get it. He’s cute with those eyes and the curly hair and his fashion sense, but nope. Not for me.” 

“Scott?” 

“Are you trying to get me to date your ex-boyfriends?” Lydia questioned as she raised her eyebrows. Allison just grinned back, waiting for her answer. “No way. I adore Scott, but the idea of kissing him is frankly appalling.” 

Allison moved to lean the top half of her body on Lydia’s bed, causing her to turn to maintain eye contact. “Boyd?” 

“Completely and irrevocably in love with Erica.” 

“Is that  _ Twilight _ ?” Allison’s jaw dropped. 

Lydia held her chin up, “I have no idea what you are implying.”

Allison lightly hit at Lydia’s thigh and Lydia kept herself from curling into herself with giddy laughter. Her hand stayed on her thigh. “Stiles?” 

“Stiles is a dear, but try as I might, he simply is  _ not  _ my type.” Lydia breathed out as she moved her own hand, running her fingers along the back on Allison’s hands. Their hands shifted and, somehow, their fingers entwined. Lydia’s heart felt like it was beating in between her ears and her mouth was suddenly dry. 

This was new. 

This was  _ nice _ . 

And petrifying.

But if there was anything Lydia did it was preserve. So, she kept her head up and locked eyes with Allison as she forced the words to move out of her throat, knowing everything would be okay no matter the outcome. This was Allison. “You know, I don’t have my eye on any boys. But there’s this certain girl I can’t get out of my head.” 

And Allison—beautiful, wonderful, enchanting Allison—grinned and replied, “Really?” 

When Lydia had first laid eyes on Allison Argent, she knew she wanted her to be her best friend. There was a beauty and natural grace to her that immediately stuck out about Allison that had intrigued Lydia. Before—before werewolves and learning of her inheritance as a death-predicting Banshee—the interest had been nothing more than cosmetic. Be friends, look pretty, cause trouble, be popular. But that interest had evolved and changed as Lydia grew to know Allison and opened up to her. 

It had been years since Lydia had willingly let anyone see her without makeup on, yet one day she had taken it all off in front of Allison without a thought or worry of how her friend would perceive her. Lydia could be herself with Allison. 

She loved her.

That first time she had seen Allison, Lydia never thought they would be here—lying next to each other on her bed as they stared into each other's eyes, grinning widely in their joy. Allison curled locks of Lydia’s hair around her fingers, carefully pulling Lydia closer and closer and closer until their noses brushed and— 

The kiss was soft. 

Lydia placed her hand onto Allison’s hip and caressed at a hint of bare skin where her shirt had rode up. Kissing Allison felt like coming home after a long day, like when she had fell asleep in her arms just the night before. This was right. Being with Allison was right. 

So they kissed. 

And they kissed. 

And Lydia felt—happy. 

“You know, I kind of wanted to kiss you since I got back from France.” Allison whispered against her cheek. 

Lydia blinked in surprise before grinning. “Well, I believe you have  _ many  _ kisses to compensate for then Allison.” 

Allison laughed, her head thrown back. Lydia caught the shining gleam in her dark eyes that always made her chest tighten up; the gleam of mischief that had been one of the first insights of who Allison Argent was. “Well,” she bite at the corner of her lip, “I guess I’ll have to get back to kissing you then.” 

A kiss on her nose, in between her eyebrows, her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, her chin, her collarboneright on the tip of her nose, and—finally—her lips. One. Two. Three. Again and again. A kiss here and there. A kiss between laughter and assurances of their feelings for each other. Each kiss made Lydia’s fingers tingle and her chest so light she was sure she would float away in her delight with all that had happened since Allison had stepped into her room. 

Lydia had been right to think she was falling for Allison. 

“You’re my best friend.” Lydia quietly breathed in between kisses. It was nothing; it was everything.

And Allison understood because she set her forehead to Lydia’s. “You’re my best friend too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you all liked this! I was so excited writing this and to post it! Please tell me what you think and/or leave a kudos <3


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